


"But Of Course."

by Belle82DevArt



Category: Dracula (TV 2020)
Genre: Alcohol, Blood, F/M, Mentions of Blood, Mentions of Sex, Mentions of alcohol, body disposal, flirting. Not really that worrisome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-18
Updated: 2020-02-18
Packaged: 2021-02-27 19:48:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22781278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Belle82DevArt/pseuds/Belle82DevArt
Summary: A request for a friend about the reader meeting Dracula in the bar. Oh, the bonding.
Relationships: Dracula/Reader
Comments: 4
Kudos: 18





	"But Of Course."

**Author's Note:**

> I was requested from a good friend to write a thirst story for her without truly going into smut. So here we are. Thank you to the always lovely @yancy-trash on Tumblr for proofing this fic and giving me feedback before I post it.

Saturday night, prime time for the clubbers and mingling masses. Lovely chaos of the clubs that spill out into the streets and spread among drunkards and horny bastards. Too much noise, too much glee and happiness. Sickening stench of club-rigged drugs and bathroom sex. Boring, always so boring, and yet those that were unfortunate enough to be dragged along must endure. A tap to the mahogany surface of the clubs bar top, the bartender sending a light nod to the woman sitting alone near the end of the bar away from company of the gathering university masses, spilling drinks here and there and getting into petty squabbles over who fucked who and whom and who called dibs on the next hot piece of ass. Distasteful, this generation had always been so distasteful. 

Whisky on the rocks, straightforward with no questions asked, that was what this world needed. No guesswork, just something to numb the pain and drown out the noise that has been so festering at the ear drums. A single sip was taken before the weight of a college lad slammed against the back of the woman sitting alone, drink spilling all over the bar top and coating the mahogany and spilling over the edges onto the bottles below holding various other liquors. She groaned, gaze looking back at the lad who gave a cheeky smile and threw that look that only said selfish prick. “Hiya baby d-” “Don’t even fucking try, mate. If you’re this much of a light weight, stumbling around, I’m rather sure you wouldn’t last two seconds in bed. Scram.” The lad was about to argue before catching sight of a new skinnier and more viable, even drunker than him, option of a woman. Long legs, legs for fucking days. The woman sighed, surprised when a new glass was set before her on the semi-cleaned bar top, napkin beneath holding neat lettering. “Who?” Was all the woman had to ask, a finger pointed to the man at the other end of the bartop, glass raised in greetings with that look that simply said ‘enjoy’. Another glance to the napkin below, note neatly written yet beginning to smear from the remnants of the whiskey that had been spilled before. 

**_“It’s quiet over here. Care to join me?”_ **

It was an invitation from a man far older yet far different from the crowd lingering within the confines of the club. It seemed he held a far more confident air, and he didn’t seem like the drunkard party boy type much like the others standing about trying to catch a new lad or lass for their five second sexcapades in the handicap stall of the club's bathroom. Slowly the half-drenched napkin and glass of newly poured whiskey was moved along to the end where the man sat, the shadow in the back of neon lights and drug induced dancing. He looked near pleased when the woman sits with him, looking on to the was she stretched to straddle the seat before crossing her legs in a far more lady-like manner. “Either this was given to the wrong woman or you have me gravely mistaken.”

A moment where the man smirked against the rim of his glass, stealing a slow, savored sip of the thickened red of a wine that didn’t smell too sweet, nor really smelled much like a wine. But who was to say what it really smelled beyond the scent that clashed within the mass of bodies. “Oh, it was meant for you, I do promise you that. No one as lovely as you should be alone, and for that same token, hit on by boys thinking they’re men.”

“And do you consider yourself the lucky man who will score tonight?” The man shrugged, sending a small chuckle to the woman at his side. “No one is quite able to determine the outcome of the night, not nearly so early into the evening when things are just starting. So, no, I do not consider myself lucky in such regards unless you are to change my mind on such.” A wink that could have been missed with a blink of an eye caught the woman off guard, a soft smile tracing her lips. 

“You seemed quite lonesome, my dear. All alone with no party to keep your interest?” He inquired with a raised brow, wondering why someone with such a steady heart and lovely gaze would be alone in the epicenter of drunken and lust induced chaos. “Oh, m’party left a while ago. No fun, those posh bastards. All they want is to dance, drink, and fuck. The same rinse and repeat every weekend. It gets bloody boring, especially when I’m not much for dancing or bein’ pressured to find some sod to bring home.”

“Ah, I believe I understand. I’m rather, how should I say, picky with my preferences in people. Like a fine connoisseur of wines, you have to pick through the crowd to find the right _flavor_.” 

“You’ve got that right.” A glance over the mans features, he grinned at her lingering gaze. “Sometimes the _right vintage_ is in order, though I’m far more a whiskey connoisseur than wine. It’s never done much for my taste.”

“Or is it a matter that it simply doesn’t give you the right numbing buzz?” 

She paused at his words, wondering just how the man could figure such. Was she that visible, that see-through? “Of course I mean no offense by such, my dear. You just simply seem tired of the same grind, the same motions like a creek that always floods. You appear prone to it.” A stifle of a saddened chuckle. The woman knew he hit the nail right on the head. “You know, if you’re gonna hit that close to home, you might as well get my name first.” He blinked before placing a hand on his head with a chuckle, his dramatics almost charming in a way. “May I ask the name of such a ravishing creature?” She actually blushed at his words, startled to be called ravishing by such an extraordinary man who could read her like an open book. “(First name). Her hand was extended to shake his own and yet the shadow of a man surprised her when he grasped her hand and brought it to his lips, a delicate kiss given to her knuckles. “I’m Dracula. Count Dracula if you must.” The air around them seemed to shift to a far more comfortable setting, even as the club began to grow tighter and tighter, far more suffocating then one would prefer. The drinks kept coming, the world numbing to a dull buzz and the gentle drone of her mystery man's voice as he spoke of many things. Art, music, the culture of the modern world. It was to the point that a glass of water was taken and sipped before a final invitation arose.

“(First name), would you care to join me before I retire for the night? Perhaps a stroll in the park?” It was truly an innocent offer on his behalf, the crimson liquid that had dwindled to mere drops left behind on the bar top and arm offered for the other. “I don’t know, Drac. I think I should call a cab and make my way back to m’flat. Perhaps a rain check?” He smiled at her words. His dinner plans had been thrown out the window the moment he realized the water was beginning to work its way through her system and she didn’t seem to nearly sway as bad. Oh well, ‘fast food’ was in order for tonight, and she may serve as a sweetened dinner on another night. “Ah, yes, of course.” He offered a hand once more to the woman, a soft peck yet again dropped to her knuckles before a card was tucked against her palm. She turned it over to see the Counts number, a faint smirk meeting her lips. “I’ll make sure to m-” A glance up and the man was gone, leaving the other to wonder just where he could have squeezed his lengthy frame off to in the middle of such a chaotic crowd. 

A cab was called as the night grew later, back hitting the worn leather of the interior seat and sigh falling from painted lips. 

[You never told me you were a magician, Mr. Count. - (Y/n)]

[I never said I wasn’t, my dear. ;) - D]

The Count smirked as he glanced down to his phone, the odd little device bringing that same excitement as the thrill of the chase when he captures his next meal. Indeed, this one truly had been fast food. He lightly wipes at the crimson that had beaded and rolled from the corner of his mouth down his chin, the cloth tucked away within his suit pocket as the corpse before his feet was nudged off into the water of the Thames. Oh, how lovely London was for its disposal services. Such a body of water provided the loveliest of cover ups. 

[Care to meet me for drinks next week? Maybe we could find something a bit more to your selective flavors. - (Y/N)]

[Oh, how that sounds delectable. Consider my schedule free for that night, my dear. -D]

[Always a charmer, aren’t you? - (Y/N)]

A snicker fluttered among the air when he looked at the brightened screen, a lick to his lips following as he followed the familiar streets leading to his own flat, quiet steps that would normally echo silent as he thinks of a reply. Oh, this one way playful when not in person.

[But of course. -D]


End file.
